


It's in the Details

by mizufallsfromkumo



Series: A Writer and His Muse [1]
Category: Common Law
Genre: Castle AU, Gen, Writer!Travis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizufallsfromkumo/pseuds/mizufallsfromkumo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castle AU.  Wesley Mitchell is an LAPD Robbery/Homicide Detective, who everyone steps lightly around.  Travis Marks is a famous writer thirsty for some new material.  They’re paths cross because of a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's in the Details

Detective Wesley Mitchell was in a rather foul move.

Some frazzled business intern had run into him and spilled her coffee all over him.  Wes didn't blame her, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it still meant he had to go back up to his room and change.  Which in turn made him late for work.  Some idiot almost ran him off the road, and had Wes not be ten minutes late for work he would have pulled the asshole over.  Things at work weren't horrible, but everyone is still treading to lightly around him. 

At least Sutton gave him a case. 

Granted he was just heading it, and Kate and Amy were on it with him, at least it was _something_.  He didn't even care that they were basically there to hold his hand.

The victim was a white male by the name Arnold Rodger, age thirty-one.  He worked as a public defender at a small little firm.  He wasn't very rich, but was dressed in a tuxedo was like he was going to a charity.  The ME had cause of death being the three steak knifes sticking out of the victims body, though there was a needle mark that had them concerned.  Two in the chest, and one between the eyes.  Someone had clearly not liked him very much.  The body was laid out on a broken table, with blood pooling underneath it.

"Whats the thermostat read?"  Wes asked suddenly, turning to look at Kate who raised an eyebrow.

"Uh...72 Degrees." A uniform informed. 

Wes made a sound as he straightened up and walked around the table to get a different angle.  He couldn't help but notice Kate and Amy glace at each slightly.  "I've seen something like this before."  Wes said simply.

"Really, where?"   Kate asked, crossing her arms.

"In my head."  Wes replied, turning just in time to watch the eyebrows raise.  He sighed and held up his hand to stop them from talking.  "Before you say anything, it was in a book.  Imagery, mean anything to you."  He didn't look at them long enough to see the look of 'Oh' on their faces.  "I think I have an idea of where to start."

* * *

Travis won't lie to himself.  He knew he was in a slump.  He didn't need the fact that the he wasn't writing like he use to tell him that.  It didn't matter what bullshit his agent and editor feed him, or how much the publishing companies kept asking for more.  Travis knew his books weren't selling like they use to, and he hadn't written like he use to in a while.

His writing is getting predictable.  His not take the sharp turns with the characters like he use to it.  Honestly, he killed off his best character because he couldn't think of anything better to do with him then off him.  It just feels like a cycle that keeps repeating, and it's getting boring.  Yet, nothing new is coming to him.  There isn't a fresh spark of inspiration that's coming to light the creative fire in his brain. 

Of course, that's not saying he doesn't want to write, he just needs something new and different in his life.  And so far no interesting muse has appeared in a bar or party.  Nope, just a lot of flat characters to fuck. 

Groaning he can only stare at his blank computer screen and try not to think he hasn't given his editor anything in months.  He's started avoiding her calls, because he honestly has nothing, not even a potential title or character.  Just a blinking cursor and blank document.

A knock on his door cause him to curse.  Great was his editor hunting him down now.  However, as the knocking continue, in little bursts of three, he knew it wasn't his editor.  No, the knocking was too solid for his tiny little editor, and it to controlled to be an angry ex.  Curious, he got up from his desk and hurried to the door.

"Calm down I'm coming!"  he called as hurried to the door. 

Unlocking the door he tore it open as the knocking came to stop.  He smiled in a friendly manner, even though he had knew clue what this was about.  Behind the door is a lean blonde man about his height in a suit.  He gave off a lawyer vibe, but the lack of an expensive tie told Travis other wise.

"Travis Marks?"  The man asked, his pale blue eyes looking Travis over like he expected more. 

"Yes,"  Travis said with a grin.  "Who are you?"

"Detective Wes Mitchell, LAPD"  The man said with a serious tone to business tone, as he pulled his badge of his belt.  "I need to you to come with me."

Well that was new.

* * *

"Mr. Marks,"  Wes said as he entered the interrogation room glancing over a rather thick folder.  "Yo--"

"Travis,"  Travis corrected, cutting Wes off.

The detective glared at him with a glare that Travis was sure the devil would run from.  " _Mr. Marks_ , you have quiet a lot of priors."  Wes said as he eased into the chair across from Travis, letting the file smack on the table to express his displeasure it seemed.  "Disorderly conduct, disrupting the peace, destruction of private property, and a very impressive number of breaking and entering and running from the police.   Though I do have to say, drag racing is not something you see everyday."

"That, was in foster care."   Travis defended with a frown.

"I'm aware."  Wes growled in a manner that made Travis want to set up a little straighter, but at the same time slouch a little more just to annoy the man more.  "Tell me, Mr. Marks, does the name Arnold Rodgers mean anything to you?"

The writer gave the detective a weird look.  "Nope, not a clue."  Travis said with a shrug.  "Why am I suppose to?"

"Depends,"  Wes said flipping through some of the pages of the folder.  "Where were you last night between the hours of ten to one?"

"At home, talking with a foster sister station in Hawaii on Skype till about midnight."  Travis informed.  "After that I ordered pizza and wrote for an hour or two."  Well it was more like watch late night television in hopes that something would spark an idea and he would be off.  Wes made a sound and, glancing at the mirrored window in the room and giving a small nod.  Almost like he was telling someone to check it.  "Her names Petty Officer Sandra Gomez if your wondering."  Travis filled in.  "I'm sorry, am I suspect in a murder of something."  Travis joked.

Wes' face however told him other wise.  "We know your books aren't selling like they use to, Mr. Marks.  Not to mention, your editor mentioned you've been avoiding her more then usual."  Wes said crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair.

"There's a thing called Writer's Block, Detective."  Travis said smartly.  Wes just gave him a look that just Travis he wasn't helping himself.  "Look, I let the twisted out in a healthy way." 

Wes glanced at him for a moment like he was looking for something.  It didn't look like he found it.  The detective sighed and pulled some crime scene photographs from a folder and laid them out in front of him.  Travis let out a whistle.

"Damn, this is--"

"From _72 Degrees too Cold,_ I know."  Wes said easily, causing Travis to look up at him at grin. 

He didn't say anything, mainly because he felt like Wes would reach across the table and rip his throat out if he did.  _72 Degrees too Cold_ was one of his earlier books, rather forgettable in comparison to others his written.  No cop would just know that, someone in the station was a rather hard core fan.  That made Travis a little giddy.

"Can I keep these?"  Travis asked.

"What?  No!"  Wes said snatching the pictures away.  "God, why would you want them?"

"This is like every writers dream come true." 

"Writers are rather sick people then."  Wes snapped shoving the pictures back to the folder.  "God, I hope your alibi falls through.  You're staying here till then."  Wes said collecting the folders and starting towards the door.

"Maybe I should help with this case."  Travis said as Wes reached the door.  "You know like consult or something."

"This isn't a TV show, Marks."  Wes said with a roll of his eyes.  He slammed the door as he exited.

 _Nice guy_.  Travis thought as he stared at the door.

* * *

Marks alibi checked out, but Wes still let him sit in the box for a while.  The writer pissed him off.  Wanting pictures of the crime scene like a weirdo.  Wes almost wished he could say the man was almost everything he expected, but he wasn't.  So Wes didn't mind the fact.

"Is Marks still here?"  Sutton asked as he walked over to Wes' desk with green post it note in his hand. 

"Yeah, he's still in the interrogation room."  Wes said turning to look over at his captain.

"Good, we got another weird one on our hands.  I want you to take Marks with you, a uniform said it looked like something out of his books."  Sutton said tapping the post it not with an address on it.

"You can't be serious, Cap."

"Oh completely."

"He's a civilian!" 

"It's a crime scene, not a drug bust."  Sutton said with a grin.  "Besides he made a good point in there."

Wes grumbled as he collected his things.  The universe must hate him so.

* * *

"You come with me."  Detective Mitchell said firmly as he leaned in the door way of the interrogation room.

Travis stared at him before glancing around the room.  "Why?"

"You're alibi cleared, and there's been another murder."  Wes said, sounding more annoyed than usual.  "Sutton wants you on the case for some odd reason."  He paused and sighed.  "So are you coming?"

The writer sprang up, he didn't have to be ask twice.  He grinned to himself as he followed Wes out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen of Robbery/Homicide, before they existed the door.  Wes lead him to an elevator and all but shoved him in, before pushing a button for the ground floor.  The detective let him to his car from there, a nice slick Range Rover.  Someone had some money in the bank.

Travis slid into the passenger seat as Wes started the thing.  He propped his feet up on the dash while he slightly marveled at what a nice ride this was. 

"Feet off the dash"  Wes growled like he was going to murder Travis.

He did was he was told as Wes radioed in that he was headed to the scene.

* * *

The crime scene was straight out of _72 Degree Murder,_ another one of Travis' lesser known books. And it also had been there for a while.

Wes had instructed Travis to wait by the crime scene tape, under the watchful eye of a young uniform who looked like she was fresh from the academy.  The darker man watch Wes lean down to look at the victim he couldn't see, while a blonde woman detective rattled off some information.  Travis, of course, managed to talk his way out of her not leading him advance. He cringed slightly at the sight.  He hadn't realized he had made a vocal sound still Wes turned to look at him like he was going to murder him.

It was everything Travis pictured, save some details. 

A tough looking tattooed woman was found dead between two dumpsters with an ice pick in her left eye.  Stab wounds littered her torso.  Honestly, even her clothes were almost perfect, it just her socks were a bright pink rather than a purple, and the strip in her hair was freshly died instead of faded.  Other than that it was rather spot on.

"Damn, its like it just popped out of book."  Travis commented grinning. 

Wes rolled his eyes and straightened up grabbing at Travis arm and attempted to pull him away.  "I told you to stand by Officer Gomez, Marks."

"Yeah, sweet girl, but this is where the fun is happening."  Travis said breaking out of Wes' hold.  "Besides, now I know this killer is a real hard core fan.  Next to no one reads _72 Dregree Murder_."

"I didn't think it was bad, aside from the fact the whole thing was a flashback."  Wes uttered under his breath.  Travis was lucky he caught it.  He can't help but grin.  So, Detective Mitchell was the big fan.

"What?"

"Hm..."  Wes sounded quickly looking up at Travis in a panic."Oh, nothing." Wes coughed and the woman detective beside him grinned before she turned and walked off.  "Maybe its time we go through your mail, Mr. Marks."

Travis grinned.  "I hope you have all night."  He smiled out before he turned on his heels away.

* * *

Marks has at least ten postal boxes of fan mail, and all of it was unopened.  Wes can only take a deep breath and dive right into the pile of it all.  He got three uniforms to help him, along with Kate and Amy, and annoyingly Marks stuck around too.  Apparently he wanted to catch the guy who was doing it all so he could shake his hand or something.  Wes figured that wasn't true, but he still glared and stormed off with a huff, leaving Marks chuckling behind him.

At least, to Wes' luck, Marks, hadn't said anything for two hours as he shoved though his mail.  Which Wes was learning was half angry ex-lovers, a quarter normal civilized people who are just generally excited, an eighth was people who were way too excited about everything, a sixteenth was very dirty mail, and the rest was all crazy.  Marks would only give out a snort every now and again, leaving Wes to glance at him occasionally.  Wes glanced at his clock, it was getting late, not something he wasn't use too, but he was surprised Marks, hadn't up and left.

"You can go home now if you want, Marks."  Wes said as he scanned another letter.

"And leave you here to open my private mail."  Travis said with a grin.  "Detective, you know that's a federal crime."

"You released this to us at your own free will, its legal."  Wes responded easily, flipping a page of the letter.  He frowned at the long winded explanation or some woman's love for Marks books and pushed her to pursue her dreams to be a writer.  "Seriously, you can leave, I don't care.  I've stayed later for smaller things."

"I'm pretty sure you have."  Marks said smartly, cause Wes too look up at him.  Marks is glancing at him with a grin that caused Wes to glare.  "Someone as anal as you, can't say I'm surprised."

"You think am anal?"  Wes blinked.

"It's not secret someone shoves a stick up your ass, Mitchell."  Marks said with a laugh.  "You have hand sanitizer with your name labeled on it, on _your_ desk. Not to mention you treat your car like it's your first born child."

Wes glared at Marks.  "You think you got me all figured out."

"I'm a writer I know how to read people."  Travis said.  "And you, my friend, are just an open book."

"Oh really?"  Wes challenged, Marks smirked in a way that made Wes slightly uncomfortable. 

Marks gave Wes a good look over before he opened his mouth.  "You have a rather basic background, good family, good home, strict, but good.  Upper middle class, got into a nice university, possibly IV League level.  Parents made you pay for your schooling.  This however was not what you went to school for."  Marks said pointing around the room.  Wes swallowed slightly, Marks grinned.  "Nah, you went to school to be a lawyer, graduated too.

"You were a lawyer for a while, you still got that air to you.  Something went wrong though, I'm assuming, and you switched to this."  Marks continued with a small nod.  "It cost you a marriage though."  Marks said point at Wes' hand on the table, which his quickly hid from sight.  Marks smiled again.  "I take it she hit you with the papers and your not over her.  Something happened recently though, as well."

"What makes you say that?"  Wes asked, his throat suddenly dry.  No ones read him this well, aside from Dr. Ryan, but even then she had his file.  Marks had nothing.  Damn, Wes thought his walls were nice and tall someone can see over them still.

"Everyone walks lightly around you.  Your captain watches you like you're going to go postal." Marks said leaning in a bit.

"I need some coffee," Wes growled before Marks could say or ask anything and it was like he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

* * *

"What did you say to him?"  Kate, the blonde woman detective, asked as she leaned in the doorway of the room they were using. 

"Nothing, I just analyzed him."  Travis said with a shrug, he was not expecting Wes to basically bolt out of the room.  "He was the one that freaked out." 

Kate nodded, but she still had a look on her face like she hated Travis for making Wes high tail it out of there.  "Wes was in a shooting recently down in evidence a some months back.  Both him and his partner were shot, only he made it out alive."  She glanced out the door for a moment before she turned back to Travis.  "He's was a wreck when he was cleared for duty two months ago.  He doesn't show it often but we all know."  Kate gave Marks a smile.  "Today, though, he was basically his old self again.  You tell him I told you this, I'll make you regret it."

With that she walked away, and Travis can't help but feel like a bit of a jerk.  He left, hurried home, and pulled out his computer.  For the first time in a while, he started writing.

* * *

Wes at his desk typing away at his keyboard, when Travis walked in the following morning.  He was ready to go, still high off the fact that he flew though his writing the night before.  Travis can't help but notice the  sheets of paper in an evidence back on Wes' desk.  So it looked like he succeed in finding something.

"Morning,"  Travis said with a grin placing a cup of coffee on Wes' desk as a peace offering.

"What is that?"

"Coffee."  Travis informed with a smile.

The detective turned to look at him before sighing.  "You're back."

"Yeah, Sutton called,"  Travis said, watching Wes turn to glare at the captain's office window.  "He said, you found something.  Besides, I figured I'd come in to see your shining face."

"Very funny, Marks." Wes said with a roll of his eyes, before he handed the bag with the papers in it for Travis to look out.  "I found this around midnight, from a guy named Patrick Alkaev."  Travis made a sound as he looked at the paper that was riddled with draws of scenes from his books.  "We're running the prints we found on the paper to see if they match any that we found at the crime scene.  Other than that just looking for a connection between the two victims and him."

Travis grinned, now that sounded a bit more fun.  "Find anything?"

Wes looked at him with a scowl.  "You'd be surprised."  Travis motioned for Wes to continue, watching the man roll his eyes again at him.  "Arnold Rodgers was defending him in a case, trying to get him the help he needed after he committed a robbery.  Sophia Loyola, the second victim, well really first, worked at a shop next to Rodgers' firm."

"So you think this Alkaev guy, killed his lawyer and some shop keeper he probably saw around, rather masterfully I might add."  Travis said holding his hand up before Wes could think of saying anything.  "And he sent me a letter with his fingerprints all over it."

"Do those pictures make him look like a complete criminal mastermind."  Wes said getting up and grabbing his suit jacket.   "People screw up."

Travis could only shrug.  "Where you going?"

"I'm going to talk with Rodger's firm and Loyola's shop."  Wes said buttoning his suit jacket.  "I have to wait for a warrant any way, might as well be productive."

"I call shot gun."  Travis grinned as he followed after Wes.

"I didn't say you could come."

"Like that's stopped me before."

"Idiot."

"You're just a ball of sunshine in the morning, aren't you, Wes."

* * *

The victims' coworkers are not very helpful.  Aside form the fact that they all knew who Patrick was.  The man had been offered a job so he did have to resort to stealing to help get the things he needed and wanted.  It seemed like his charges were going to be dropped if he agreed to get help which he had.  There was absolute no reason for Patrick to kill anyone he had they had been nothing but nice to them from their end.

Wes can only feel like this is the start of serial case if they didn't catch him in time.

Marks was surprisingly behaved, even though he annoyingly had to express his idea and theories when they got back in Wes' car.  Wes grumbled but played along, it was nice to have someone to bat ideas off of.  Even if he dinged the door on his car when they got out to talk to some family.

* * *

"Stay in the car."  Wes snapped at Marks as he carefully made sure his vest was in place.  Marks opened his mouth like he was going to object but Wes glared at him.  "I mean it.  You're a consulting on this case, you aren't actually a cop."

Marks pouted and crossed his arms.  "You say that, but I'm pretty sure I could out shoot you."

Wes rolled his eyes.  "Keep thinking that."  Wes said before he gave Travis another hard look.  "You leave this car, I swear I'll--"

"Yell at me, scowled me, have me arrested, make Sutton take me off."  Marks said easily with a sigh.

"Just stay in the car, Marks!"  Wes snapped on last time before he joined the task force that was collecting at the bottom of the apartment building.

Kate and Amy gave him a small grin, and he gave him a nod in return.  He knew he could do this.  With that they charged the building, pushing in through the doors and up the starts to Patrick's apartment.  Kate banged loudly on the door, ordering Patrick to open the door, but there was hardly a sound in the room. Kate knocked again, before she nodded at Amy to kick the door down.

Everyone flooded, in sweeping the rooms and finding nothing other than creepy.  Wes slipped his gun back in his holster when he found an open window to the fire escape.  He cursed and ordered some officers to radio in to see if anyone could find Patrick in his escape. 

"Hey, Mitchell, you might want to see this."  A uniform called.

Wes hurried over to them to find them squatting in front of a small closet in the hallway.  He did the same and they passed him the flashlight they were holding.  Wes couldn't help but blink at all the drawings, newspaper clippings, and book covers that littered the walls to make a shrine.

"Yeah, that's completely normal."  Marks voice sounded behind him causing Wes to jump.  He turned sharply to glare at the writer, shining the flashlight in the man's eyes.  "God damn it, Wes!"

"I told you to stay in the car!"  Wes growled standing up. 

"When have I done what you told me to do?"  Marks said with a devilish grin.

Wes groaned, and motioned for Kate and Amy to have a look at the shrine in the closet as he grabbed Travis by the arm.  He dragged Marks out to the apartment and into the hallway.  He was about to tell Travis off, how listening to Wes might actually not get the man killed in a stupid way.  But he was cut off by the fact that Patrick walked up the stairs with a confused expression on his face. 

Patrick glanced at them and then at the open door of his apartment.  "What's going on?"  He asked politely, before some officers sprang into actions.

* * *

"Doesn't this feel like a bit of Red Herring to you?"  Travis asked once they got back to the station.  Wes sighed but her turned to look at him.  "I mean, Patrick seems pretty shaken up when you told him Arnold and Sophie were dead."

"Because we were arresting him."  Wes said easily.  Travis gave Wes a look, that caused the other to sigh after a while.  "Okay, some things don't add up."

"Thank you."

"He's the only suspect we have currently.  I still have to question him."

* * *

Patrick was nervously tapping and humming out what sounded like to some TV show theme song as a way to calm himself.  He had refused a lawyer, only wanting Arnold who was dead.  He had been booked easily enough, he was a bit frazzled but for the most part he was calm.  Not in a way that made it seem like he knew what he was doing, just a calm that wouldn't get him into more trouble.

Travis watched from behind the glass as Wes entered the room with a polite smile as he sat across from the man.

"Mr. Alvaek, you've been arrested for breaking and entering and burglar, and it looks like we'll be adding murder to as well."

"I didn't kill Arnold!"  Patrick snapped a bit heatedly.  "I didn't kill Ms. Loyola either!"

"Patrick, calm down."  Wes uttered firmly, and Patrick nodded and took a calm breath.  "I don't think you did it either, but so far the evidence we have doesn't tell me that.  So I have to ask for your alibi during the murders."

"Of course,"  Patrick nodded.

He easily informed Wes where he was during the times Wes asked.  He had been with his psychiatrist during Loyola's murder, and he had been visiting his mother in Santa Barbara during Arnold's.  He gave all the contact information Wes asked for in a heart beat.   Both sounded pretty solid to begin with.

"So, Arnold's really dead?"  Patrick asked.

"Yes,"  Wes said sorting through the folder before him.

"I didn't kill him!"  Patrick repeated again.  "I beat it was that guy in his office the other day.  They got into a really be shouting match."  Wes perked up at that and Patrick took notice.  "I didn't get to see him very well, but Arnold seemed upset about it.  But I saw he got in a rather nice car and drove off."

"Think you could describe the car for us, while I check your alibis."  Wes said with a bit of a grin.  Patrick nodded.

Wes got up and exited the room, motioning for a uniform to get the information from him.  Travis grinned at him widely when Wes entered the room behind the glass. 

"That is so not our guy."  Travis comment.

"First off, there is no 'our' or 'us'.  Second, that is definitely not the guy."  Wes said as he walked out of the room to his desk.

* * *

Wes stared at his computer screen hard, tapping his fingers on his coffee cup in thought.  He was looking over Jonelle's corner report for the tenth time that day.  He frowned.  The stab wounds had been what killed the two victims, but there had been traces of local anesthetics in their blood.  Not enough to kill them or put him under, but just enough to basically paralyze them and make them loopy.

"Hey, what the computer do to you?"  Marks voice sounded in front of Wes. 

The detective blinked to find the famous crime novelist smiling down at him with an odd look in his eyes.  Wes didn't like it.  "Nothing,"  Wes said slowly.

"Okay, sure, whatever."  Marks grinned out.  "I'm gonna head home," he said pointing to the door.

"You don't have to tell me, Marks, just go home."  Wes growled at bit as he turned back to his screen.

"What are you looking at?"  Marks asked, before he round the desk.  "Really the corner's report... _again_.  Haven't look at like forty times today?"

"No,"  Wes grumbled, he was sure it was somewhere around ten, it had to be.  "I haven't look at it that much."

"It feels like it."  Marks said with a chuckle, before Wes felt his chair lean back as Marks pushed at it when he leaned forwards for a better look at Wes' screen.  "Rodgers had way less anesthetics in his blood than Loyola."

"Well he was larger."  Wes hissed.

"Yeah, but the amount in Loyola's blood looks like it would be enough to almost put her under.  She would be completely out of it."  Marks continued.  "Rodgers' dose had to be way smaller, just enough to take out his motor skills, but other than that he rather aware what was going on."  Wes could only blink at Marks.  "What, I did research for a book in a hospital.  I picked up a few things."

Wes made a somewhat impressed sound.  "So if what you say is right," Wes said shoved at Marks before he could object, "then Rodgers' was the killer's main target.  But why cover it up with another murder?"

"'Cause, you start looking for the crazy."  Marks said with a grin.  "Especially with themed stuff like this."

Wes just rolled his eyes.  "This opens some doors." He comment lightly.  He watched as Marks straightened up.  "You're not going to stick around."

"Nah,"  Marks said with a grin.  "But I will wait patiently by the phone for when you have something interesting."

Wes just rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer.

* * *

_He didn't crack when opposing lawyers through accusations.  No, he stood his ground and turned it back around on them.  He didn't crack when things didn't look good for his clients.  No, he buckled down and worked his ass off to get them back in the good.  So he wasn't going to crack now.  Not with bullets whirling over his head, or a killer on the lose.  He eased back, kept time with his heartbeat on the mug he was holding.  His lips perked up on the right slightly as he thought._

_Warren settled, and unleashed his thought process.  
_

Travis grinned.  He hadn't written like this in ages, and this is still a bit of spit balling.  Leaning back from his computer he admired his work from afar. 

His cell phone rang and he sprang to it quickly, smiling again as it was Wes.  "And here I was thinking you would be reasonable."

"I am."  Wes grumbled over the line.  "But I figured you were unreasonable and still up."

"Fair enough.  What's got you calling?"

"There's been another murder.  The Secretary of Patrick's therapist, and it looks like another scene out of your books."  Wes said.  "Slit throat and tossed off a building sound familiar to you?"

" _Tower Drop_?"  Travis questioned with a grin.  Testing to see what Wes would say.

"You tell me, but a whiteness saw a similar car to the one Patrick told use about driving away from the back entrance."  Wes said and he sounded happy.  "And they got a license plate."

* * *

 

Wes had traced the car and license plate back to Arnold's brother, Michael Rodger, when Marks came in the following morning.  He had also gotten the secretary at Rodgers' little firm to confirm that Michael had meet Patrick once in the lobby and had made light conversation.  In fact he was trying to get off the line with her when Marks calm strolling in like he owned the place, she couldn't stop talking about the family problems the two were having.  Somehow he managed to hang up on her without being rude, and it look like they had finally found the guy.

"Anything interesting?"  Marks asked, snatching a folder up from Wes' desk. 

The detective growled and snatched in back, dropping it back on his desk.  "Yes, actually."  Wes said sliding back into his seat as Marks leaned against the desk beside him.  "The license plate belongs to Michael Rodgers, Arnold's brother, who just so happens to be a nurse with access and training in local anesthetics."

"You think he's the guy?"  Marks asked with a grin.

"I'm waiting for a couple warrants, but despite his statement about where he was during the murder before, I think he's the guy."  Wes said with a confident grin.

"What was his alibi?"

"He was out of town on a business trip in Vegas."  Wes said this a bit of a sigh.  "However, the hospital said he rented a car, and the person he went with said he didn't see him the whole day before they left, just saw him at dinner.  Which was the day Arnold was murdered."

"So you think he drove the rented car back to LA, killed his brother, drove back, and used two other murders to cover it up."  Marks said, before he made a face like he approved.  Wes glared at him, and Marks just grinned at him.  "Please tell me I get to come with you when you arrest him?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

* * *

 

"Stay in the car."  Wes ordered sharply again as he pushed Travis back in the car a bit.  "I mean it this time."

"I'm not going to follow you."  Travis said rolling he's eyes, but even he knew that was a lie on his tongue the moment it came off it.  "You have my word."

"Your word doesn't cut it"  Wes growled at him, crossing his arms.

"Scouts honor?"  Wes just raised an eyebrow at him, like he knew it was a lie as well.  "I promise I won't leave the car.  I swear on my foster moms' graves."

"Fine,"  Wes huffed, throwing his arms up in an exasperated manner.  He leaned in close suddenly, catching Travis himself by surprise and cause him to lean back a bit.  "I trust you to stay in the car." 

That was when Travis registered the sound of handcuffs sliding to place.  Wes pulled away with a wicked grin, and Travis moved to moved his left arm to find he couldn't.  He turned on horror to see his wrist was no hand cuffed to the handle by the door on the car.  He growled and tuned to Wes.

"What is this?"

"Insurance."  Wes said simply.  "Now I know you won't leave the car, Marks."

"This is low, Wes."  Travis hissed, trying not to find the sound of Wes' laughter appealing.

\----

Michael Rodgers, had found a nice place to live.  Guests had to go to a special desk so person could call up to the room and tell them someone was there to see them.  It sound nice in retro spec, but for a police arrest it was a nightmare.  The moment the woman cleared them, Wes and some uniforms tear up the stairs, while Kate and Amy take the elevator. 

Wes managed to get to Michael's floor first, and they hurry to the man's door.  Even if Michael isn't in a panic, Wes doesn't want to chance anything.

"Michael Rodgers, this is Detective Wesley Mitchell with the LAPD,"  He snapped after banging on the door.  "We have a warrant."  No one seemed to be coming to the door.  "Michael Rodg--" There was the sound of something crashing from within the house.

Wes didn't hesitate to kick down the door and barrel in with his gun at the ready.  They pour in, sweeping the area, and Wes spots the open destroyed window before anyone else.  He also see's Michael drop something over the edge and look over in a panic at the police booming around his place.

"LAPD!  Freeze!"  Wes snapped, but the man just turned and started down the fire escape. 

Wes cursed as his slide through the opening.  He hurried to the guard rail peering over as Rodgers touched to the ground.  The man turned quickly, before taking off in the direction.

"I got him!"  Come a shout from below, causing Wes to turn and look in horror.

"Marks!"  Wes hissed, watching as the author just waved him off.  "I told you to stay in the car, you idiot!"  Wes cursed as he quickly climbed down the stairs.

* * *

If Wes thought handcuffs were going to hold Travis, he was seriously mistaken.  Travis had been in his share of handcuffs and he learn to get out of plenty of them.  It came from a mixture of foster care and research.  He knew just the right way to angle his hands, how to pick the locks, and he had a key in his wallet.  Wes thought he was so smart.

Travis grinned and chuckled to himself was he worked his wallet out of his jeans and got the key out.  He easily slipped out of the cuffs and tossed them in the passenger side.  He rubbed his wrist before the sound of something crashing through glass. 

He watched as a man tossed a bag of shredded paper over the side of the fire escape before turning to look inside.  Travis watched him disappear down the fire escape before Wes popped out of the window as the man reached the ground.  Travis grinned and charged the man, who ran towards the dead of the alley way.

"I got him!"  Travis said with a wave as he raced after the guy.

Wes called after him, but Travis didn't give to shits.  He was going to catch the guy who used his murders to actually kill people.  As a writer, Travis took offense to that, it was fine with fictional characters died, but not this. 

The man reached the dead end of the alley way and panicked.  He charged at Travis, who by some miracle didn't manage to get immediately tackled to the ground.  Travis took a few kick boxing and mix-martial arts classes at the gym, but he had never actually put them to actual use outside of his books.  He growled a bit to himself when there was a gun pointing to his head and he was being held hostage.  He wasn't an idiot.

"LAPD!"  Wes whipped out from behind the turn of the alley way, his gun at the ready. 

Travis watched a sort of panic set in as Wes analyzed the scene in seconds.  What Kate had told him days ago echoed in his head.  Wes had lost his partner.  The detective deserved in an award, because he didn't let the panic Travis could see on his face break him.  He tucked it all away, and kept his gun and form level.

"Let him go, Michael."  Wes said firmly.  The man just grabbed Travis a little tighter.  "This isn't helping you at all."

"He's right."  Travis said with a bit of a grin.  "Running from the cops never makes it better."

"Shut up!"  The man, Michael, ordered.

"Do what he says, Marks."  Wes said, keeping his eyes trained on Michael.  "Put the gun down, and let him go."  Wes said taking a small step forward.  Michael shifted the gun, and Wes took a step back.  "I'm not going to ask so nicely next time."

"Is it really worth it man,"  Travis started up again.

"Travis."  Wes warned with a hiss.

"I mean, we know you did it."  Travis carried on, ignoring the glare Wes sent him.  "We know you drove rented a car and drove it back to LA to kill your bother, then drove back to your little business trip.   Did you seriously have to kill two innocent women to cover your brother's murder up.  It would have killed you to sit down with your bother and actually listen to him."  Travis said.  "But then again it seemed like your grandmother always liked him more."

"Shut up!"  Michael hissed.

Travis saw an opening and took it, breaking out of the man's hold and flinging him over his shoulder with ease.  Wes pounced, he kicked the gun away and kept his gun trained on on the man as he groaned on the floor.

"Michael Rodgers, you're under arrest for the murders of Arnold Rogers, Sophia Loyola, and Mary Santiago."  Wes rattled off as some uniforms came barreling around the corner.  Wes reached down and tore Michael off the ground and shoved in over.  The detective then turned widely to Travis.  "What the hell you thinking?"

"That I could help you catch the guy, which I did."

"By putting yourself in harms way!?" 

"The safety was on."  Travis said with shrug.

Wes decked him in the face then, and stormed off grumbling.  It was nice to know Wes had a mean right hook.

* * *

"Heading out?"  Wes asked sipping at his fresh cup of coffee.

"Uh...yeah,"  Marks said with a breath and smile.  "It looks like just paperwork from here on out, and I already gave my statement.  Don't worry, I made you heroic."

"Did you make yourself idiotic as well?"  Wes shot back from behind his mug.  Marks gave him a look that made him chuckle.  "Well, thanks, for you help on the case.  We wouldn't have solved it with out you."  Wes said holding out his his hand.

"You would have, just not as quickly."  Marks said with a gin as he took Wes' hand and gave it a good shake.  "See you around?"

"God, I hope not."  Wes said rolling his eyes over dramatically. 

"Damn, don't make me take back the gift I left on your desk."  Marks shot back.  Wes tried not to turn quickly to see a small box on his desk.  "Make sure no one gets a hold of it, or my publishers will have your head."

With that the author left with little more than a wave and smile.  Wes watching him walk out the door before he strolled back to his desk and opened the box.  He blinked when he found a copy of _Black Tower,_ Marks new book that wasn't suppose to come out for another week or so.  Wes didn't fight the pull of his lips as he opened up the cover.

_It was nice to get to know you, even though you have a stick up your ass.  Fan or not.  -Travis Marks_

Wes rolled his eyes, before he shoved the book away and turned back to the paperwork at hand.

* * *

Weeks past after the case with Marks.  Sutton gave him a few cases here and there.  Easy things, things he could handle of his own, without a partner.  Wes still hadn't been assigned a new one and as much as that pissed him off, he didn't mind.  No one had seemed to be a good fit for him, Sutton still was giving him space, and Dr. Ryan was still trying to get him to open up a bit more.  All in all, Wes' life went on.

"Mitchell, my office."  Sutton called suddenly one day, making Wes cringe a bit.

Wes got up from his desk and hurried in to the larger man's office.  Sutton greeted him with a smile, before motioning to an open seats in front of his desk.  Wes, however, only takes notice in the person who is sitting in the other one.  Marks is leaning back in the seat, watching Wes closely with his bright blue eyes.

"What is Marks doing here?"  Wes asked quickly.

"That's why I called you in here.  Take a seat, Wes."  Sutton encouraged.

"I think I'm good standing, sir."  Wes said firmly, hardly moving from his place by the door.

Sutton shrugged and gave a sigh as he sat down.  "Marks is writing a new book."

"Good for you."  Wes said sharply.  Something in his core told him he wasn't going to like what was coming next.

"He needs to do research."  Sutton continued and Wes could feel the dread sink in more.  "He's passed all the of necessary tests for us to even think about giving it a chance, and given the fact of how well you two worked together on the previous case, I don't see why not."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Marks, here, will be following you around until his book is published."

"You're joking."

"He's not."  Travis said with a grin.  "I pulled some strings, partner."

Wes just walked out of the office without another word.  The universe just hated him.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, I finished this!
> 
> This is really just an introduction to it all, I didn't want to just started it in the middle, but now I have free reign. So yeah, I kind of combined season 1 and 4 of Castle to get this. I figured that way it was different enough to not be Castle, and be a bit more Common Law. Also I used my title form my serial killer!Wes AU on FFN. And some other stuff I thought of.
> 
> I'm going to go sit in a corner happily now.


End file.
